


Written in Ink

by ArchOfImagine



Series: Written Soulmates [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kid Fic, M/M, Mentions of past abuse - brief, Past Dean/OFC, Shipper Sam, Soulmate Tattoos, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Dean Winchester didn't give much thought to the 'soulmate tattoo' on his arm. Why should he care about all that destiny non-sense? He had more important things to worry about. Thankfully, his little brother cares a little more about soulmates and whether or not they're real. When he spots Dean's soulmate on TV, he immediately starts planning a way to get Dean and the President's son, Castiel Novak, together.If only things were that simple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a... process. This was like, idea 8, in the planning stages of DCBB. Thankfully, near the end, I had the help of some amazing people to keep me encourage. Special thanks to: Shannon, Coppy, and my wonderful artist kamicom!
> 
> Link to the art: [ Here!](http://kamicom.livejournal.com/6177.html)

\--- **Prologue** \---

In a dusty motel room bed, Dean carefully held a flashlight in one hand and used his other hand to make shadow puppets on the ceiling. His little brother, head resting on the pillow next to him, softly giggled at Dean’s commentary for each animal.

A clap of thunder sounded outside and Sammy curled in a little closer. Dean, momentarily out of animals to create with his hands, laid the flashlight between them and turned his head to stare at his brother. “Remember what that teacher taught you? It’s just air pockets slamming together and making a loud noise. Can’t even think about hurting us.”

Jutting his chin out, Sam nodded and put on a mask of confidence, “I know.”

The room was quiet for a moment and Dean twirled the flashlight absentmindedly. “Let’s talk about something else.”

The light illuminated the inside of Dean’s right wrist and Sam leaned forward to brush his fingers along the twisting letters of the script. Dean had hit puberty the year before, and the letters had slowly faded into view. Sam’s arm was bare, but in a few years, he would have his own name to wonder about. “What do you think she’ll be like?”

Dean’s eyes landed on his wrist and his face scrunched up. His brother was certain that it was a girl because _‘duh, Dean, that’s how it works!’_ But Dean wasn’t so certain. Castiel Novak. He wasn’t even sure how to _pronounce_ the first name, let alone what gender it belonged to. And what would people think if his soulmate was a guy?

“Pretty, of course,” he answered his brother. “Funny. A Star Wars fan, for sure. I bet she’ll be famous… like a movie star or something.”

Sam snorted, “In your dreams.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Samuel, did you get those dishes taken care of?”

Skidding to a stop at the base of the stairs, Sam ducked his head. From somewhere in the back of the house, his grandfather’s voice could be heard loud and clear. He gave a longing look up the stairs. The final debate before voting day was happening in t-minus twenty minutes… and it would take him fifteen minutes just to get the antennas on his small television to work right and produce a clear picture. 

“Pops! It’s debate night—”

Henry Winchester, no doubt relaxed in his La-z-boy and reading a newspaper, didn’t budge, “I asked you to handle them last night, Sam. Get to it.”

For the next twenty minutes, Sam grumbled his way through doing the dishes by hand and daydreamed about the modern technologies that were lacking at his grandfather’s house. Like cable tv and a dishwasher.

Hell, he was probably lucky that he didn’t have to use a washboard.

Once the dishes were done, he hauled ass up to his room and turned on the small nineteen inch television that sat on his desk. For maybe the first time in his life, he only had to fiddle with the antenna for a second, before the screen cleared and the debate came on. While the men on screen spoke, he flipped open his history homework and tried to multitask. 

It was a particularly interesting election year — the Republican candidate was a celebrity with no formal political background, and the Democratic candidate was holding a strong lead in the polls despite a questionable past while in office as the Governor of Illinois. 

Despite his troubles, Sam still liked Governor Novak. He seemed like an honorable man and had faced the tragedies of the Chicago water crisis with his head held high and his hand extended to help the needy. 

He listened attentively throughout the closing speeches, before watching as each candidate’s family stepped onto the stage to pose for pictures. He moved a little closer to the screen so he could get a better view of Governor Novak’s family. 

“At least his wife looks normal,” Sam mumbled to himself, “and not like a Playboy bunny.”

A moment later, a small banner on the bottom of the page listed the names of Governor Novak’s wife and son. When Sam’s eyes scanned to the final name, his ass slipped off of his computer chair and he fell to the floor with a thud.

“Holy shit…. _holy shit._ ”

_Governor Jimmy Novak with his wife Amelia, and son Castiel._

Castiel Novak.

Sam stared at the screen so hard he was pretty sure it might catch on fire. He hadn’t expected to ever see that name again. At least not in such a big setting. He stared at the kid whose name was written on Dean’s arm and realized suddenly what it all meant.

Dean’s soulmate was a _guy._

Dean Winchester. Self-proclaimed ‘ladies’ man.’

Sam turned the television off as the debate ended and went back to regular broadcasting. His eyes scanned his bedroom and he tried to remember where he had stashed his brother's phone number. The number had arrived in a birthday card with a hundred dollar bill. The money was long gone but Sam had stashed the number.

“Samuel?” a voice called from outside his door.

Sam moved over to his bedside table and began rummaging through the junk inside. “Come on in, pops.”

Henry pushed the door open and leaned against the door jam. “How was the debate?”

“Governor Novak pulled even farther ahead. I don't know how anyone could pull for that other idiot.” He slammed the drawer closed in frustration and turned to his grandfather. “Pops, do you remember where I put Dean’s card from my birthday?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Henry shook his head. “What d’ya want with that?”

“I need his phone number. He wrote the new one on the card.”

Henry turned around, heading back for the stairs. “It’s written by the phone, boy. You aren’t the only one he updates.”

The knowledge that Dean had been in contact with Grandpa Henry was a bit surprising. When Sam first moved in with his grandfather, the drama surrounding the whole ordeal had given him the impression that Dean and Henry weren’t on good terms. In the three years that Sam had lived there, Dean had never once stopped by for a visit. 

Like every other time he thought about those dreadful days between his father’s death and moving into Henry’s house, Sam shook away the thoughts and focused his attention back on the matter at hand. Dean’s soulmate was the son of a presidential candidate. How the hell were they going to arrange a meet up? 

He rushed downstairs and into the kitchen, going to the small table where the phone sat next to a chair because _of course_ it had a cord. In Henry’s perfect script was Dean’s name, followed by his most recent phone number. Sam had checked the area code when he first received his birthday card — Dean was in Louisiana… a long ways away from the middle-of-nowhere-Missouri where Sam currently was.

As he dialed the number, he looked around to check if his grandfather had given him privacy, but of course he had… Henry was always a gentleman like that. The phone rang four… five times, and Sam was about ready to give up hope, when the line clicked on.

“‘Lo?”

Even with one syllable, Sam could recognize his brother’s raspy voice. “It’s me.” He frowned, wondering if Dean would recognize _his_ voice. How long had it been since they talked? “Sam. It’s Sam.”

“Sammy?” Dean sounded exhausted, voice quiet and half awake. “Everything okay? Something happen to Henry?”

“Everything’s fine. Grandpa is fine.” How was he supposed to breach the subject that he had called about? How exactly did you tell someone you had seen their soulmate on TV? “I saw something on the debate tonight that I think you need to know about.” Dean’s reply was little more than a grunt and Sam suddenly realized he would have to just _say it._ “I saw your soulmate. On TV.”

There was a pause, long enough that if Sam couldn’t hear Dean’s breathing, he probably would suspect the phone cut out. Then, finally, Dean spoke. “Listen Sam, I gotta work early tomorrow and I really don’t have time for this nonsense… no offense.”

He remembered back to the last few days before Dean moved out. Dean had gone through a break up with another girl from his high school and had pretty much wrote off relationships. Sam, even at eleven, could see the way his older brother struggled with how people received him. Dean was smart — had been offered a spot in a high school algebra class when he was twelve years old — but people saw a kid from a broken home whose clothes were always second-hand, and tattered, and some variation of black or gray. One look, no matter what, and Dean was written as a ‘bad’ kid. 

And in high school, the girls only dated ‘bad’ boys to get back at their parents. It would last two weeks, a couple of stops at a local pizza joint or roller rink, and Dean would come home disappointed one day after class. Sam always tried not to draw too much attention to those moments, but hearing his big brother breaking down through the bathroom door, had always stuck with him.

Based on that experience, it didn’t really surprise Sam that Dean would completely write off the existence of ‘soulmates’ and ignore the name written on his arm. Back then Dean had a thing for wearing long sleeved shirts just to cover up the writing. It probably didn’t help that the name had a masculine ring to it — maybe Dean had always suspected the name belonged to a man, and that was why he ignored it.

Had the universe ever fucked up that badly? Given someone the wrong name? The wrong gender?

Sam decided to go for a topic change, just to keep from upsetting his brother. “Hey, so, are you planning to come up for the holidays? It’s been a while.”

“Sam.”

“I know, you don’t like it here, I get it. But sometimes it feels like you don’t like me either.” His words trailed off and he quickly glanced around the room, wondering how he hadn’t realized that such a feeling was brewing inside of him. It was true, though. In the five years that Dean had been gone, Sam had seen him twice — on his twelfth birthday and a month after their father died. 

“You know that isn’t true, Sam,” Dean responded, voice finally starting to sound like he was awake. “It’s just…”

Missouri. Kansas. Home. _Bad memories._

“I could come there,” Sam suggested. Part of him knew that if he was around his brother for a while he could get him interested in at least _trying_ to meet Castiel Novak. The other part — a much larger part — just wanted to have a relationship with his brother that wasn’t based on once-a-year phone calls and birthday cards.

Dean let out a breath and suddenly was back to sounding exhausted. “Listen, Sam, I’ll talk to my boss, okay? I’ll see if I can even work out vacation time. He’s not big on letting people off.”

“Just try?”

“I’ll try. Now… I really need to get some sleep before…” he paused for a moment, then quickly picked up his train of thought, “before I have to get back up for a twelve hour shift. I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

“Okay. Goodbye Dean.”

“Bye Sammy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Six weeks passed and Sam didn’t hear a word from his brother. He even convinced his grandfather to upgrade their phone so that they would have a voice mailbox and Dean could leave a message. 

Nothing.

At the same time, Governor Novak had jumped in the polls after another key debate where his opponent made a few outrageously racist statements. Sam knew that once the beginning of the year hit and the Novak family moved into the White House, finding an opportunity to get Dean and Castiel to meet would be next to impossible. So, it had to happen soon.

The only card he had left to play was Grandpa Henry. He spent the next two weeks begging and pleading and practically selling his soul when it came to promised chore completion. Finally, _finally_ , he agreed and Sam carried their new cordless phone up to his bedroom. This time, Dean answered on the second ring.

“Benny?”

Sam frowned. “No, it’s me. Sam.”

“Oh, hey, Sam.” 

_Wow._ The frown deepened at his brother’s sudden change in tone and lack of excitement in his voice. His thumb brushed over the ‘END’ button and he contemplated hanging up and telling Grandpa nevermind.

Stupid idea. Stupid brother. Stupid family. Why did he even care? Why did he even try? 

He was quiet for too long. Long enough for Dean to notice. “Sorry. Was expecting a call from my friend and you caught me off guard. What do you need, Sam? Everything okay? I’m a bit busy…”

It was too much and he bit his tongue to stave off tears as he let his thumb press the button it had been resting on. _Stupid._

Part of him wanted to throw the phone in frustration, but he knew that his grandfather would be upset with him if he did. Slowly, he walked back downstairs and put the phone in it’s cradle. Immediately after he did, it started ringing and Sam imagined it was probably Dean calling back in confusion. 

_Too bad._

Grandpa Henry was at the store and there was no one in that house that had any desire to speak to Dean.

\---

“Hello?” … “Oh. Hello, Dean.” … “He did?” … “No. Everything has been fine. I think he’s upstairs working on his homework.” … “Sure. Gimme a minute, these stairs aren’t as easy as they used to be.”

There was a knock on Sam’s open door and he turned from his desk to see his grandfather holding the cordless phone. _Shit._ It had been two days since his interrupted phone call with his brother, and surprisingly Dean had never managed to call back while Henry was home until that point.

“Sam, your brother is on the phone.” Henry held the receiver so that the speakers were covered by his shirt. “Says you called him a couple days ago and hung up on him. He’s been worried and you haven’t answered any of his return calls.”

“I was upset with him.”

“And didn’t care to give him an opportunity to explain himself?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It was apparent that he didn’t have time for such explanations.”

Henry brought the phone up to his ear. “Dean, I’m going to give the phone over to Sam and I fully expect you to both work out whatever is going on here by the time you hang up. I’m too old for teenage drama.”

Begrudgingly, Sam took the phone when his grandfather handed it over. “Hey,” he mumbled, giving Henry a pointed look before closing the door behind the old man.

“What the fuck, Sam,” Dean growled. “I thought someone had died!”

Leave it to Dean Winchester to always expect the worst and still only waste five phone calls on trying to get information. “Funny… I thought you had better things to do than talk to someone like me.”

“Sam.”

The frustration blossomed into anger. “Don’t ‘Sam’ me, Dean! If you want nothing to do with the brother you haven’t even bothered to see in three years then _fine._ I get the fucking message. I’ll stop calling.”

“Sam—”

“I’ll stop trying. What was I expecting? Of course you want nothing to do with some needy little brother living in a place you hate—”

“Sam!” His brother’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Will you just shut up for a minute and let me talk?” Instead of replying, Sam remained quiet as requested. Dean waited a breath before continuing, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t want to talk to you. You just… you just kept hitting at particularly bad times.”

“Lucky,” Sam grumbled.

“I _said_ I was sorry.” Dean sighed. “Tell me what you wanted to talk about. Please?”

Sam took a deep breath and contemplated not saying anything, before he realized how petty that seemed. “I know you don’t like it here,” he mumbled, “So I talked to Grandpa about it and we figured out a solution.”

“I don’t understand. A solution for what?”

“Christmas.” If his plan didn’t work, he would forget the whole thing and completely move on with his life. He had AP classes to worry about — definitely more important than his brother’s love life. “It’s been so long, and I want to see you, so I worked out a way to spend Christmas together.”

“You did, huh?” 

At least his brother hadn’t shut down the idea. _Yet._ “Grandpa and I are going to New York City for Christmas. A week, to see the sights. He said he would pay for your ticket so that you could go.”

There was a lengthy pause before Dean spoke again, “I talked to my boss after the last time. He said he would look over the scheduling and see if a vacation would be doable. I’m not sure I can get the time off.”

Something in his brother’s tone made his heart sink. “Listen… nevermind. It was a stupid idea.”

“Sam, you don’t understand—”

“No. I get it, I do.” He squared his shoulders, determined not to let disappointment get the best of him. “Work is important and it’s not like school where we get these guaranteed breaks. Just forget I said anything, okay? We haven’t even bought the tickets yet so it’s no big deal.”

“Sam.”

“I gotta go.”

“Don’t—”

He hung up the phone before his brother could say anything else.

After taking a few minutes to collect himself and work out his emotions, Sam carried the phone back downstairs. Not surprisingly, Henry was sitting at the table by the phone. He looked up from his book when Sam put the phone in it’s cradle.

“No?”

“No.”

“Sam, your brother’s ability to take a vacation has nothing to do with his feelings towards you.”

Sam blinked his eyes a few times and cleared his throat. “Can I borrow the car? I’d like to take a drive.”

For a few long moments Henry quietly observed him, before finally nodding his head in assent. “Sure, son. Be back before dark.”


	4. Chapter 4

To Sam’s surprise, Henry followed through with the idea of going on vacation for Christmas. It made sense, considering they didn’t have any family to celebrate with. So on December 20th they drove to Kansas City and got on a plane for LaGuardia. Sam had never been, of course, but Henry was well traveled from his pre-grandson years — after Grandma Millie died, Henry embraced the time alone and did a few trips to Europe and Asia just for the heck of it — so the trip went off without a hitch. When they landed, Sam followed his grandfather to the baggage claim area and waited patiently for their suitcases while the old man went to rest on a nearby bench. 

It seemed to take _forever_ for their luggage to finally circle around on the carousel, but eventually he had the two bags and walked over to Henry with them trailing behind. “Ready.”

Henry looked up for a moment, before giving Sam a smile. “It’s peak traffic time.” He motioned behind him at a small Bar and Grill there in the airport. “Why don’t we grab some dinner here so that we aren’t stuck in traffic and hungry.”

Sam wasn’t opposed to waiting, but he knew that his grandfather was probably using eating dinner as an excuse for resting a little while longer after the long flight and he wasn’t about to embarrass the old man. “Sounds like a plan.”

They had just ordered their food, when Sam lifted his head up and frowned. In the airport crowds outside of the restaurant, he could have sworn he saw a familiar face. Shaking his head, he looked back down at the table and took a long drink of his soda. 

“Sam.”

He almost spit his drink out as he looked up at the sound of his name. Because it _wasn’t_ Grandpa Henry. No, the older man was sitting across the table and watching the scene unfold carefully. Sam looked up and into the clear green eyes of his brother. He almost felt like crying as he pushed himself up from his chair and quickly wrapped his brother in a tight hug. _”Dean.”_ The word came out on an exhale and sounded so hopelessly relieved.

“Daddy?”

The frown returned and Sam pulled back to look down at Dean’s feet. Next to him sat a small stroller with a little girl strapped in, exhaustion on her face and her hair in lopsided pigtails. _Holy shit._ “Dean?”

Henry pulled out the empty chair next time and Dean said a soft thanks before sitting down and smiling at the girl who was now on a closer level. “Finn, I have someone important for you to meet.” He motioned up to Sam. “This is your Uncle Sam. Can you say ‘Sam’?”

Without hesitation the little girl looked up at Sam and smiled. “Sam!”

… and he maybe collapsed back into his chair.

\---

They had to get a van taxi to take them from the airport. Because a regular one didn’t have enough room for all of their bags and a _carseat_. Sam sat beside the thing in the middle seat and spent the whole ride staring at his brother’s kid in shock.

He had so many questions floating around in his head — all of which Dean had promised to answer once they got to the hotel and _Finley_ was down for a nap. 

Dean Winchester had a daughter.

Suddenly, Sam remembered exactly why he had planned this whole trip to begin with and _fuck_ there was no way his plan was going to work out now!

The president’s kid being soulmates with a single father? Yeah, like that was going to happen. It was like a PR nightmare. 

They were in the hotel room for an hour before Dean walked out of the second bedroom in the suite and over to where Sam was sitting on the sofa. Henry had gone into the other bedroom and said he needed a shower and a nap. 

“So,” Dean started, sitting down across from Sam. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

Sam let out a sarcastic laugh. “Probably a good spot.”

“When I first went to Louisiana, there was this girl. Ellie.” Dean avoided Sam’s gaze, staring at the wall like he was remembering in detail all that he spoke about. “She was amazing. You know those stories about ‘southern debutantes’? Yeah, that was her.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “It wasn’t much of a thing, though, ya know? Couple months. Few dates. Then one day I’m at work and look up and she’s there with tears in her eyes.” He finally turned back to look at Sam. “The condom broke. Must have. She was pregnant, her parents were pissed, I stepped up.”

As hard as it was to picture his brother being a father, it wasn’t hard to picture him stepping up to the plate when something like a pregnant ex-fling showed up. “Where is she now?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Ellie.”

“Preeclampsia,” Dean whispered. “Something went wrong one night and everything happened so quickly. One minute she was there, the next she was gone and they were handing me a baby.” Sam opened his mouth to comment but Dean wasn’t finished. “Her parents freaked, of course. That’s one of the… one of the reasons why I’m always so busy. I still get threats, even two years later, that they’re going to take her away. I know that if I lost my job or didn’t have enough money to cover rent, even just one month, they would swoop in and take Finn from me.”

“That is such bullshit.” Sam frowned, remembering how his brother had sounded every time he called — like he was exhausted and carrying the world on his shoulders. “Why haven’t you asked for help? Grandpa would help. I’m sure he knows someone that could—”

“ _No._ ” Dean quickly shook his head at the suggestion. “I’m sure he would help, but that’s exactly what they want. They want me to prove I’m the ‘stupid kid’ that they think I am.”


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel Novak had never expected to be tired of flying. He could remember the very first time he got on an airplane at seven years old and how excited he had been when the pilot offered to let him come up and see the cockpit of the small aircraft.

With his father accepting the role of Commander in Chief (and everything that came with that role in the months prior) after winning last month’s election... Castiel had spent more time on a plane in the last six months than he ever expected to in his life. _’Gotta give the impression of an undivided family unit, Castiel,’_ his father had said as a means of reasoning behind wanting Castiel at each major campaign event.

He wasn’t quite sure how him being at college and focusing on his studies would make people think their family was _divided._

“You know, I had to get a background check to be approved to continue being friends with you.”

Castiel looked up from the book he was reading at the library and smiled at the sight of his best friend, Charlie. “Then why are you here? I’m surprised you got through their screening after all that NSA nonsense.”

Charlie hissed and side-eyed the Secret Service agent standing a few yards away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed, using his foot under the table to push out the chair across from him and subconsciously making sure that his sleeve was fully covering his arm. “How are finals going, dear?”

A large heavy bag got dropped on the table and Charlie gave him a look that clearly meant murder. “If Williamson actually expects me to manage a twenty-page rhetoric in five days—”

“I finished last night,” Castiel bragged, softly, hand nervously tugging once more at his sleeve.

“I hate you,” Charlie growled. With a nervous smile, Castiel avoided meeting her gaze and looked back at his book. The quiet lasted only a moment before his friend reached across the table and grabbed his left hand, pulling his arm closer and shoving up his sleeve. “What the fuck.”

 _Shit._ “Charlie,” he warned, eyes glancing around the library.

“What did you do?”

With a mournful glance, he looked down at his left arm. Where a well scripted name was once placed, now there was only blank skin. “It’s kind of like skin graft surgery.”

“Castiel!” Her voice boomed loud in the otherwise quiet library and Castiel hung his head in shame.

From behind them, he heard footsteps and then the agent on duty was muttering a questioning, “Sir?”

“I’m fine, Luke. Just… make sure we have some privacy?” The agent nodded and stepped away. Castiel took another look at his arm, before finally meeting Charlie’s gaze. “The campaign manager felt that—”

“They made you remove your soulmate’s fucking name?” Charlie shook her head, “Jesus, why the fuck did I vote for him?”

“Sixty-five percent of the population don’t even _meet_ their soulmate, Charlie.” He recited the statistics without hesitating. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It’s a _really_ big fucking deal, Cas.” She looked at his arm in disdain. “It’s because the name was male, isn’t it? In the last months of his campaign your father tried to pull in the Christian vote and it wouldn’t do for his son to be gay.”

Nervously, Cas scratched at the fresh skin on his arm. “They thought it was just a product of fate and had nothing to do with my sexual orientation.” Because how do you possibly inform your father that his only son is gay, and bound to cause issues with his political aspirations.

“That’s fucked up, Cas. Not only for you, but for every person you represent with your sexuality. If anyone knows the struggle of living in a society driven by soulmates and being _outside_ of the norm, it’s me. But you know who could change the stigma about those people?” She glared at him while standing, grabbing her bag like it wasn’t weighed down with a dozen books. “The fucking president’s son.”

“Charlie—”

“No, Cas. Just… no. I won’t support this bullshit. Can you imagine how your soulmate is going to feel when you meet him and he sees a blank arm? Did you even fucking consider that?” At Castiel’s silence, she nodded her head. “I didn’t fucking think so. Goodbye, Castiel.”


	6. Chapter 6

There was no ‘meet-cute’ way of getting two soulmates together, Sam was beginning to figure that out. Three days into their week long vacation and he had spent more time ice skating with his niece than he had trying to track down Castiel Novak. Finally, one morning he woke up early in the hopes of sneaking down to the hotel ‘business center’ and using their computer for research. He was tip-toeing his way out of the bathroom after quietly getting dressed when a small hand grabbed onto his in the dark and he bit his tongue to keep from letting out a loud girly shriek. He looked down and found the green eyes of his brother’s little girl staring back at him in the darkness. She was standing in her pajamas, a well-loved Captain America doll in her right hand.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“I pooped.”

_Of course._

… one diaper change later and he was walking to the door of the room, keycard tucked into his back pocket.

“Sammy?”

His head dropped and he let out an exasperated sigh. Apparently changing the diaper and putting her back onto the couch pull out did not necessarily mean that Finn would go back to sleep. He turned to look back at her. This time, along with Captain America, she held her pacifier in her other hand. “Yes, Finn?”

“I go?”

_Damn it._

He wrote a note telling his brother that Finley was with him just in case Dean woke up and wondered where the girl was. He then picked her up and carried her with him out of the room. Thankfully it was six in the morning and the business center was empty, so he was able to close the door and allow Finn to run around. She lasted two minutes before she had her binky in her mouth and was asking to sit on his lap, her small hand curling around his fingers as he tried to type.

He checked for appearances of the new first family, before starting to look for random sightings that people had made around the area. He finally stumbled upon a posting with the information for Castiel’s dorm room at Columbia University. Though it would be next to impossible (not only because of security but also because he had no legit excuse for his grandfather) to get to the actual dorm, it wasn’t beyond measure to make a trip over to Columbia with the excuse of a tour of the campus. And maybe that tour would end at the coffee shop by Castiel’s dorm. 

Maybe fate would step in and start helping him out with the whole mess.

He moved the mouse to click out of the page and a moment later heard a soft muffled, “Hand!”

Turning his palm over, he allowed Finn to grab onto his hand. Dean had explained the first night that it was some type of comfort measure for her… always wanting to hold someone’s hand while falling to sleep. After the explanation, Henry had laughed before informing them that rough and tough John Winchester had never fallen asleep as a baby without rubbing at the lips of the person holding him. _’Drove us all insane.’_

\---

They walked the entirety of the Columbia University campus in the cold snow with a whining baby, and _nothing._ Sam wasn’t sure he had ever felt so disappointed. When Henry tried to ask him what was wrong, he angrily shook his head, “Nothing. Nothing is wrong at all. Can we go back now?”

Henry and Dean wanted to go out for dinner at a nearby pizza joint… Sam laid on his bed facing the wall and told them to just go ahead without him because he had absolutely no appetite left.

“Sam—” Dean’s reprimand was cut off and Sam could hear Henry’s muffled voice talking to his brother. 

A moment later, Henry spoke gently, “We’ll bring you back a few slices. Get some rest and stay in the room, okay?”

\---

Once they were seated at the restaurant and Finn was busy playing with a few sugar packets, Dean looked over at his grandfather. “What’s going on with Sam?” He wanted to say that he had never seen his brother acting the way he had back at the hotel, but the truth was — five years was a long time to lose touch with someone and suddenly not know how they react in certain situations.

Henry smiled softly, one hand playing with Finn while his attention stayed on Dean. “Sometimes, Dean, a teenager just needs to act like a teenager. Sam has had a lot going on that he hasn’t been real forthcoming with information on. I try not to press in the hopes that he’ll come to me once he’s ready.” 

“Does that work?” Dean asked. A waiter brought over a basket of breadsticks and Dean, without thinking, began pulling apart bits to hand to Finn, who happily ate them after throwing her sugar packets over the side of her highchair.

“Seems to. Sam’s a good kid. Smart. He tends to know his own limits.” Henry looked like he wanted to say more, but was interrupted by a bit of a commotion at the main entrance of the restaurant.

Dean turned his head to look, frowning at the entourage of people entering the place. A few security guards were surrounding a tall guy and Dean frowned, trying to place the face as a movie personality, but he wasn’t sure he knew the guy. “Who is that?” he questioned.

Staring for a long moment, Henry seemed to be puzzling over who the person was, before his face lit up in recognition. “My God, I believe that’s Castiel Novak… our new president’s oldest son.”

If he had been taking a drink of water, Dean might have spit it out at that point. He stared at his grandfather like he’d lost his mine. “Did you say… _Castiel Novak_?”

“Yes.” Henry chuckled, “Your brother has a thing for politics. I swear that boy watched every debate that was on the television.”

Dean turned again to look at the group of people moving to the back of the restaurant. “Grandpa Henry…” He held his left arm out and pulled his long sleeve back.

There, in dark letters on his skin, like it had been since he popped his first boner and grew his first chest hair, was the name _Castiel Novak._

Suddenly, he understood exactly why his brother had been so intent on getting Dean to pay attention to him. What was it he said in that first phone call? _’I saw your soulmate on TV.’_

And now he was in the same town — the same _restaurant_ — as the man he had spent almost half of his life wondering about. 

“Dean.”

He looked up at his grandfather and realized the man had been speaking to him, but he hadn’t heard a word. “Yeah?”

“I think you should probably go talk to that boy. Show the security your arm.”

He shook his head, there was no way it could be that simple. “It won’t work…”

“Doesn’t hurt to try. If you walk out of here without trying, you’ll never forgive yourself. Trust me.” That was true. His eyes drifted over to his daughter, who was still happily eating bites of breadstick, but Henry read his mind. “I’ll watch her. Go.”

Walking across the distance of the restaurant felt like walking across the Sahara without water. His mouth was dry but his palms were sweaty and _what the fuck_ did he think he was doing. He was a single father — there was no way the president’s son would even blink an eye at him, soulmate tattoo or not.

As predicted, as soon as he was close to the table, a large security guard in a black suit stood up and gave him a very suspicious look. “No autographs or photos,” the man growled.

“I um…” Dean looked at the dark haired Castiel — who was more interested in his menu, than worrying about other patrons in the restaurant — before looking up at the guard and pulling his sleeve up the same way he had with his grandfather. “I was hoping Castiel would look at this.”

It was obviously not what the man had been expecting him to say. The agent looked from Dean, back over to the table. “Uh, sir?”

The thing about it was — over history lots of people had tried to mimic the ‘soulmate’ tattoos that magically appeared on people’s arms. It was impossible to get the ink and script just right, though, and one glance would tell a person if the writing was fake. Which meant that when Dean showed his tattoo to the Secret Service agent guarding Castiel Novak, there was no way he was trying to cause a scene with a fake.

Finally, Castiel looked up from his menu, eyes briefly glancing over Dean, before turning to the agent. “Hopkins, I told you that I didn’t want to be bothered tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure you should see this,” Hopkins replied. He grabbed onto Dean’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Before the media does.”

Castiel looked up again and the agent pulled Dean’s arm forward so hard that Dean almost tripped when he slammed into one of the table’s extra seats. Castiel glanced down at Dean’s arm briefly and looked away before what he saw registered, and he turned back. “Holy shit.” He quickly looked around the restaurant and Dean could tell that he was nervous — worried someone would see. “Hopkins, we need this to be a private conversation. Can you set up a meeting, please?”

Just like that, Castiel made it clear that Dean and Hopkins were dismissed. Dean stared at the man who was supposedly his _soulmate_ and wondered if that was actually how he acted in real life, or if he was putting on a facade to prevent onlookers from suspecting anything. 

Shaking his head, he turned around before the agents could force him away, and started heading back towards the table. Hopkins stopped him on the way, quickly sliding a card into Dean’s hand. “There’s an address on the back of this, be there tomorrow at 1pm. If you talk to the press, you won’t like the consequences.”

Dean forced a sarcastic smile as he looked at the other man. “Fantastic.” When he got back over to the table where Henry and Finn sat, he picked up his daughter and gave his grandfather a look. “Can we get this to go?”

He had spent most of his life expecting the whole ‘soulmates’ thing to be utter nonsense, but the way he was feeling at that very moment, made him think that maybe some part of him had believed true happiness could be found in the eyes of another. 

_Nope._


	7. Chapter 7

When Dean and Henry got back to the hotel, Dean asked his grandfather to keep an eye on Finn and went into the bedroom he was sharing with Sam. He closed the door behind him and walked over to sit on the bed next to where Sam was lying. “I have a problem and I need your help.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Sam grumbled, his back to Dean.

“I met Castiel Novak.”

 _That_ , at least, got Sam’s attention. He sat up quickly and stared at Dean in shock. “You’re shitting me. I go through all of this effort to get you two to meet and you run into him at _dinner?_ ”

“Yeah.” Dean scratched nervously at the back of his neck. “He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“Ugh!” Sam cried out, falling back onto the bed again. “Why, universe? Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

Seeing the way that his brother was reacting to such information, Dean finally realized that maybe the whole week had been planned around making sure that Dean and Castiel met. Why? He didn’t understand why it was so important to his little brother that he know his soulmate. The majority of the population ignored the name on their arm and fell in love on their own terms… why was Sam so motivated to ignore that way of living?

“Did you convince grandpa to fund this trip so that I would meet Castiel?” As soon as Dean asked the question, Sam’s expression turned a bit sheepish. “Sam! You knew this man lived here? I’m not going to stalk the poor dude just because his name is on my arm. I don’t even like men!”

Slowly, Sam sat back up and stared at his brother with a mixed look of confusion, shock, and some kind of hurt.

Dean didn’t fucking get it. Didn’t get why Sam could be so obsessed with a relationship that didn’t even _involve_ him. It wasn’t like one vacation together was suddenly going to mean that Dean had the time and money to come for regular visits. Not only that, but he had absolutely no fucking desire to ever step foot in Kansas again. Just thinking about that area made him remember the problems he had with his father and shudder. 

Standing up, he gave his brother a well-intentioned glare and made sure that the younger man knew that his next words meant business. “I appreciate the help, Sam, but from now on… please stay out of my love life. I can make my own fucking mistakes just fine.”

\---

Sometimes being a Novak was a bitch. The worst part about it, was the way that Castiel could easily slip into ‘politician mode’ without realizing.

The day after meeting his fucking _soulmate_ and he suddenly wondered why he had been so stupid and brushed the guy off without even making a proper introduction. The press wouldn’t hound him if he spent a few minutes talking to a random guy in a restaurant, would they?

What was he thinking — of fucking course they would. It would only take one photo of the two of them together and suddenly every national newspaper would read: _President’s Son — Gay?_

It didn’t help that even though he was only nineteen, he still got shit for being single. It had been a long time since a president had a young, good looking, press-worthy son for everyone to fawn over. _’America’s Prince Harry’_ was one of the favorite monikers for reporters to use.

He subconsciously tugged at his dark hair and wondered how people got off comparing him to Britain’s most famous redhead.

His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall and he realized it was half-past-two in the afternoon and he still hadn’t heard a word from _Dean Winchester._ Funny how he could have his own tattoo removed and still have that name burned in his brain.

Why had he dismissed the other man so easily? What would he do if he never heard from him again? Did it really even matter? Maybe it was for the best. They could both go on with their lives and pretend that they had never even met or been destined for one another.

Why did that thought make him feel so odd?

\---

Despite Henry’s best efforts, Sam barely said a word for the rest of their vacation. Dean would find himself stealing glances at his brother and wondering if he had made the right choice by telling him off without allowing him to explain his reasoning.

When they arrived at the airport on Sunday, Sam carried Finley, helping her through security and laughing softly at the way she danced through the scanner. When the time for goodbyes arrived, Sam held onto Finn and whispered quiet words into her ear, before handing her over to Dean and giving a firm handshake and a soft, “See ya later.”

Henry and Dean stared at Sam as he waved softly before turning to head across the airport to the gate that his and Henry’s flight was leaving from. “Sam?” Another wave and suddenly Dean felt like shit. Finley had tears in her eyes and Henry looked pissed.

“I don’t know what you did, boy, but you better figure out a way to fix it once you get home,” Henry growled, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Finn’s head. “That boy loves you more than you could ever know, and you treat him like a bad reminder of a life you don’t want to look back on.”

“I don’t—” Dean started to argue, before stopping suddenly at the realization that he had been doing _exactly_ that. What other excuse did he have for not telling Sam and Henry about Finn? They obviously understood his disdain for going back home, but he had no doubt that if he had wanted Sam to come visit, Henry would have footed the bill without hesitation. Shit… he was a terrible brother. 

But Sam’s eyes reminded him of things that he could never go back and fix.

Henry pulled him into a hug. “Have a safe flight, son. And send me some pictures of this little girl, so I can brag to the ladies at the bank.”

He said goodbye to his grandfather while swallowing down the regret he felt for his relationship with Sam.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mentions of self-harm in this chapter.

There was a line of scars on Sam’s arm that he hid with carefully placed concealer and long sleeved shirts. It wasn’t that he had a thing against the name written there.. It was that he had a thing against the _second_ name written. The one that kids in middle school had seen and immediately harassed him about because _’what kind of freak has two soulmates?’_

His thoughts exactly. What kind of _freak._

He had once looked up the prices for the surgery that would cover his tattoo — but it was outrageous and the type of cosmetic procedure that his grandfather’s insurance would never cover. Not only that, but Henry was an old romantic who still believed in the soulmate tradition — Grandma Millie’s name was still proudly displayed on his arm.

Every time Henry tried to talk to Sam about his tattoo, Sam quickly diverted the conversation away. He had absolutely no desire to discuss it with anyone. Even around his brother he had made sure the concealer was in place before Dean saw his arm. At first he had played with the idea that maybe Dean would understand. Maybe he would, above anyone else, get being different.

That idea had quickly flown out the window when Dean gave his speech about Castiel. If fate had messed up enough that Dean had a tattoo for a male soulmate when he didn’t even _like_ men, then obviously the whole idea of soulmates was a bunch of bullshit.

As the blood dripped off his arm, he wondered — not for the first time in his life — who the two people were that fate was so determined to have him be with. Were they going through the same kind of struggle? Wanting to just be normal for one fucking day?


	9. Chapter 9

Back home in Louisiana, Dean tried to get back into a routine and settle into normalcy. It didn’t work as well as he wanted it to, unfortunately. It took a week before his roommate handed him a beer and made him sit down and give an explanation. So with Finn tucked in bed for the night, he told Benny about all that had gone down in New York and waited for his friend’s input on everything.

As was usually the case with Benny, he gave Dean the ‘no bullshit’ outlook. “I know it’s not the best of circumstances but I think it was kind of a coward move not to at least hear the brother out.”

Dean groaned, downing his beer and getting up to grab another. Standing at the entrance of the kitchen, he picked at the label and stared at the floor. “Did I ever tell you about my last week at home?”

“You told me you had it out with your old man and it was mutually agreed that you should leave.”

Pacing back to the couch, he snorted. “ _Mutually_ is a relative term. He landed his fist against my nose and told me to pack my shit.”

While Dean restlessly moved back and forth, Benny stayed put. “Why?”

Dean had never really told anyone else. Had let the secret die with his father. But if he was ever going to get his best friend on his side, then Benny needed to know the whole story. “He caught me getting fucked by Paul Stewart… the quarterback at my school.”

The revelation left Benny speechless and staring at Dean like he had grown another head. Part of Dean began to worry that maybe it was a bad idea to say anything. Louisiana was buried deep in the south and though Benny seemed pretty progressive, you never knew a bigot until they punched you in the face. Literally.

They sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime, before Benny finally started to nod his head. “So you think everyone else is going to react the same as your old man, right?”

“Right. And, I mean, I like chicks just the same so if it’s easier to take the coward’s way out—”

Benny gave another nod, and then got that look on his face that Dean knew _very_ well. It was the ‘I’m about to change your mind, Dean’ look. “Can I pose a hypothetical?”

“We both know you’re going to, even if I say no.”

“True.” Benny smiled. “Did you happen to, in all of the time you were around your brother, look at the name on Sam’s arm?”

“I—” his words cut off as he thought back, trying to remember if he had taken the time to look in the hustle and bustle. Considering he couldn’t remember a specific name, the answer was probably no. “No?”

“So how do you know that your brother’s soulmate isn’t also male? And maybe he was looking to big brother Dean to give him some advice, and instead of facing your fears, you shut down any possibility of ever believing in soulmates.”

 _Shit._ Dean hung his head in shame. “Why are you always right?”

Benny laughed, “Because you’re always wrong.” After a moment of laughing at Dean’s expense, Benny quieted and his expression turned serious once more. “Dean, I can’t tell you that you won’t face prejudice if you enter into a relationship with this guy. Hell, him being so famous almost guarantees it. But what I can tell you is that your little brother? Probably not one of the bad guys.”

\---

It took only a day for Castiel to decide that he wasn’t a big fan of the White House. His parents had always been pretentious and not ashamed of showing off their wealth, but there was something about sleeping in a house that actual slaves had built, that made his stomach tie itself in knots.

He had to be there, though. Had been the portrait of a good son while his father was sworn into office. Now? Now he could finally escape to the third floor where he had requested to be given a room set away from his parents. After a couple years at college, living on his own, it wasn’t any fun to be back under the same roof as his family.

He was just finishing up with a shower when a soft knock sounded at the door. Pulling on a pair of boxers, he just barely opened the door and peered outside. Thankfully, instead of his mother or a staff member, it was the person he had been expecting. Shifting out of the doorway, he allowed the person to enter before closing and locking the door behind.

Blue eyes and a lecherous smile looked him over, obviously appreciating his lack of dress.

“Ditch the suit, Luke,” he stated, as he walked towards his back in the corner in search of lube and a condom. Or two.

\---

In the political world, it only took one small blip to create a frenzy. In the case of Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, it took one photo. 

One photo and a friend of a friend who wanted fifteen minutes of fame. 

**’America’s Prince: Not Looking For a Princess?’**

Dean stared at the headline on his computer in shock. There were reporters — _actual_ reporters — outside of his house. Wanting an interview. A quote. A _story._

On the screen, just above the headline, was an old image of Dean with a couple of friends. Everyone was blurred in the photo except for Dean. And highlighted in one corner was a close-up enhancement of the tattoo on his arm.

There was a quote in the article from an anonymous source saying how they had always known Dean was gay, but were surprised that his soulmate could be someone so famous.

_”I guess that’s life, huh? Someone so terrible ending up with someone famous who looks like a genuinely nice person.”_

“Of fucking course,” Dean growled to the empty room. He suddenly knew _exactly_ who the anonymous source was. Especially when he recognized the photo and the fact that the girl standing next to him was Ellie, Finn’s mother.

He knew that Ellie’s parents were out to get him, but for them to unleash the kind of havoc they just had on his life? With a sigh he realized that the phone would probably be ringing the next day with a call from his case worker wanting to make an impromptu inspection — if she didn’t just show up without calling.

The door suddenly opened and Benny walked in carrying Finn with a blanket over her head. It was Friday, the day that Dean usually worked later and Benny picked Finn up from daycare — unfortunately the news crew at work had made his boss upset until he was quickly sent home so that no further distractions were made.

Finn tossed the blanket aside and ran to Dean. “Surprise! Daddy, I hide!”

“I saw that. You better go play with your toys before suppertime.” He gave his daughter a kiss and a hug before watching her run down the hall towards her room. With regretful eyes, he looked up at Benny. “Sorry. About—” he waved his hand towards the door, “—that.”

“Someone just asked me if I was your boyfriend or just a gay lover. Definitely the most exciting evening I’ve had in awhile.”

“Thanks for hiding Finn.”

Benny patted him on the back on the way to his own bedroom. “No worries, brother.”

\---

If there was a room he hated the most in the White House, it was definitely the Oval Office. His father sat behind the large Resolute desk and suddenly turned into a man that he barely knew. With the headlines spread out in front of him on the desk, Jimmy Novak was even less of the man that Castiel called his father.

The story had dropped at around noon and Castiel had been forcefully awoken from a nice post-night-of-sex slumber and told that he was requested immediately in the Oval Office.

And, okay, maybe the worst part was that he had to wear a fucking suit just to have a meeting with his dad. 

His dad, the Vice President, and a couple of the joint chiefs — not to mention a few public relations staff members that Castiel hadn’t bothered learning the names of. 

“Son—” 

Castiel looked up at Michael Milton, his father’s Vice President, and rolled his eyes, “Don’t call me son.”

Michael ignored his words and continued, “Hopkins has informed us that you knew of this _Dean Winchester_ from a meeting in New York, is that correct?”

It didn’t escape Castiel that Michael said the man’s name like it left a dirty taste in his mouth. “He approached me at a restaurant. I noted the mark on his arm and asked Hopkins to set up a private meeting. Dean never showed up. I thought that was the end of it.”

Jimmy, still sitting regally behind his desk, finally spoke, “Castiel, why didn’t you inform us of this meeting? You know that we have people who are supposed to take care of things like this.”

“Oh yeah?” Castiel snorted. “What are you going to do? Pay him to get his tattoo removed as well?”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

Michael stepped forward, causing Castiel to immediately take a step back, keeping an equal amount of distance between them. “Son—”

“I’m not your son.”

“The president has a large following of people that are upset over the idea of his son’s soulmate being male. If this kind of situation had come up during the election, we would have lost.”

“Well it didn’t. And I’m not letting you guys bully some poor guy that obviously wants nothing to do with me.” Castiel pointed at the PR people. “I don’t care what kind of _scandal_ this all causes. You will not scare some regular joe into doing surgery.”

“We can’t just ignore this, Mr. Novak,” one of the PR ladies spoke up. “If we don’t issue some kind of a statement, then the press will have a heyday.”

Michael reached out a hand. “Son.”

In a fit of anger, Castiel stepped forward, pointing his finger at Michael’s chest and glaring. “Call me ‘son’ _one more time._ ”

“Castiel!”

He turned to his father, anger still brewing. “I will handle this matter. I’m not great with my constitutional knowledge, but if I remember correctly, it’s illegal to coerce someone into tattoo removal for your own gains, and the President isn’t above the law.”

Without waiting for anyone’s approval, he turned to the hidden door in the wall and stepped out of the office. His security detail was waiting outside — Luke and another man named Powell — and as they walked towards the stairs, Castiel turned to Luke, “I want Hopkins replaced. I don’t care how, but make it happen. I’m not going to deal with someone reporting back to my father about my every move.” He turned his gaze to Powell, “You understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And pack a bag,” he instructed. “We’re going to Louisiana.”


	10. Chapter 10

It took three days of camera crews following him before it was obvious what Ellie’s parents were aiming for with their ‘plan.’ He picked up Finn early and drove home, parking his ‘97 Honda in the back alley to avoid being seen going in the house with Finn. The day before, it had gotten out that he was a single father and that the little girl being snuck in every day was obviously his. He had gotten calls from Finn’s daycare about people trying to sneak pictures outside their building.

“Hide time, daddy?” the little girl asked as he quickly undid the buckles on her carseat. 

“Yes, puddlejumper.” Dean handed her the blanket that she liked to carry at odd intervals and reached out to pick her up. As soon as she was in his arms, she laid her head on his shoulder and pulled the blanket up over her face. Dean locked up the car and headed through the back gate, completely ignoring the pink slip that was in his back pocket.

When he got inside, he set Finn down and watched with a laugh as she quickly ran over to where Benny was sleeping on the sofa and poked at his face. 

“Poke me one more time, little girl, and I’m gonna bite you,” Benny mumbled. Finn giggled, poking Benny’s nose and going into a fit of laughter when Benny faked chomping on her finger. They kept the game up for a few minutes before Benny finally stretched and sat up. “I’m up, cher, I’m up.”

“Yay! Ben.” She climbed up onto his lap and wrapped him up in a hug. “I ‘ove you.”

“Love you too, cher.” 

Dean smiled at the sweet display, as he searched the cupboards for something suitable for dinner. The reminder of how much food was stocked in the pantry, made him think about his bank account balance and the smile slid from his face. The first few years when he had lived on his own, he had struggled for food and wound up on government assistance. As soon as he was able, he had cancelled the food stamps and welfare checks, hoping to never have to go back to living like that — counting every penny just to buy some off-brand ramen noodles.

Now, with another mouth to feed and a lay off from his job, he would quickly end up in that boat and he knew it. If he got signed up for unemployment, hopefully he would at least be able to cover rent.

A moment later, Benny stepped up to the edge of the kitchen with Finn snuggled in his arms. “You’re early today, everything okay? People still causing issues?”

He pulled the envelope out of his back pocket and tossed it on the counter in front of Benny. “I was told that they were laying off a bunch of guys, but I asked around and apparently a bunch only means me.” He shrugged, pulling out a couple blue boxes of macaroni, “I guess having media attention every day wasn’t good for business.”

“Shit, brother, I’m sorry.”

Finn popped her head up from Benny’s shoulder. “Shit, bro.”

Hearing the little girl curse, broke through the bubble of worry that had been laying on his shoulders and Dean couldn’t help but start laughing. “No bad words, Finley.”

Benny had an apologetic look on his face, but he was also holding back his own laugh. Before he could say anything, a knock sounded at the door and they all turned to look. Without hesitation, Benny handed Finn over to Dean. They had come to an agreement that Benny would be the person in charge of answering any calls — either physically at the door, or over the phone — to keep people from sneaking up on Dean with their interview requests.

Since he didn’t really care who was at the door or how Benny handled it, Dean focused on pulling out the ingredients for dinner, with Finn sitting on the counter and happily watching the goings-on. He got lost in the motions and a moment later when he heard footsteps, he asked over his shoulder, “Reporters again? Or old Miss Johansen checking you out while asking for sugar?”

“Dean,” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

He spun around so quickly he sent the macaroni toppling out onto the counter. Even before he registered who was standing in his kitchen, he was placing his body in front of Finn’s to protect her.

Castiel Novak, First Son of the current United States President, was standing in his kitchen.

“Shit!” Finn piped up, from the spot where she was standing on the counter and looking over his shoulder.

“Uh… hi,” Dean mumbled, reaching around to pick up his daughter. “Please ignore my potty-mouthed little one. Why are you here?” The words all came out in a bit of a jumble, but having Castiel stand there and stare at him was making him surprisingly nervous.

Castiel’s shining blue gaze moved from Dean to Finn, and he stared at her as he spoke. “I came to address the matter that has come about between us. I assume the reports are true and this is your daughter?”

“Finley Marie,” Dean supplied. “We call her Finn.”

On cue, Finley held out her small hand towards Castiel. “Nice to meet you, I Finn.”

With a tiny, almost imperceptible, smile, Castiel shook her small hand. “Hello, Finn, my name is Castiel.”

Finley scrunched up her face at that. “Cassie..Cas..Cassiel?”

“Cas,” the other man supplied.

Dean moved around Castiel, still holding Finn. “Cas, what did you do with my roommate?”

“Asked him if he’d be willing to go out to dinner while we had a private discussion.”

With a snort, Dean waved his hand at the front of the house. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Castiel, but my life hasn’t left much time for any kind of _private_ discussion, lately.”

“I’ve got people taking care of that.” Castiel moved into the living room and took a seat on the sofa, carefully moving a baby doll out of the way as he went. “My security is clearing back the press and setting up a perimeter — making sure no listening devices are being utilized.”

As soon as Cas was sitting, Finn wiggled out of Dean’s arms and moved over to the man, immediately climbing onto his lap because it was _her_ house and she was the princess in that particular kingdom. She began rambling about her baby doll, completely ignorant of Castiel’s discomfort as she told the man what the baby’s name was and a bunch of other nonsense that even Dean couldn’t understand.

Per Finn’s gibberish instructions, Castiel held onto the baby securely and allowed her to pile a couple more toys on his lap, before he looked back up to Dean. “She’s very opinionated. Must take after her father.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, hiding a smile. 

A knock sounded at the door, causing them both to look up. Castiel quickly offered, “It’s probably one of the agents. But I guarantee they would have stopped a reporter. Go ahead.”

With a nod and a deep breath, Dean walked over to the door and pulled it open. It wasn’t a reporter, but it also wasn’t an agent. His good mood suddenly dropped when he saw the stern look on his assigned case worker’s face.

“Mr. Winchester, how nice to see you. May I come in?”

It was a trick question, of course. If he said no and refused her entry, she would put a black mark on his file. Dean stepped aside, “Of course, Ms. Richardson.”

She stepped into the house, eyes already scanning the interior. “I met some friends of yours out front. It seems you’ve hired some people to impersonate _Secret Service agents_ and get rid of your reporter problem?”

Every time Ms. Richardson visited, he wanted to have a good opinion of her. He tried — he _really_ tried — but it only took one statement for him to hate her again. Before he could correct her, though, Castiel was stepping up next to him, with Finn tucked securely in his arms.

“Actually, ma’am, those are my agents. I’ve brought them to help eradicate Dean’s media problem.” Castiel held out his free hand. “Castiel Novak.”

If she was surprised that the President’s son was standing in Dean’s living room… she didn’t show it. Simply shook his hand and spoke in that same demeaning tone. “Amelia Richardson. I’m Dean’s caseworker, here to make an impromptu inspection.”

Castiel seemed unphased by the woman’s brash behavior. “Oh? Interesting. I have a lot of respect for what the Department of Health and Human Services does. I just met with Secretary Burwell last week — she’s a lovely woman. Pray tell, was there a specific matter that necessitated this visit? Because I know that even impromptu inspections must be red flagged in the system by a particular event or report. And though he doesn’t have the right to stop your inspection, Mr. Winchester has every right to ask for proof of said report and it’s credibility.”

That, it seemed, gave Ms. Richardson a bit of pause. She had apparently not been expecting Castiel to stand up for Dean — which was fair, because even _Dean_ hadn’t been expecting it.

“We’ve gotten a report that Mr. Winchester has been laid off from his job,” Ms. Richardson supplied.

Castiel turned to Dean, who was staring at the caseworker in shock. “Is that right, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean growled, “but considering it just happened two hours ago, I would say that _Ms. Richardson_ has an inside source feeding her information.”

“In any case,” the woman replied, “loss of employment is grounds for inspection and a refiling of financial information to prove that you have adequate means to provide for Miss Finley.”

“That is—”

Castiel cut Dean’s angry words off, holding up a hand and stepping between them. “That is unnecessary. From this point on, Dean and my soon-to-be-stepdaughter, Finn, will be receiving a monthly stipend from my personal accounts.”

Simultaneously, Dean and Ms. Richardson turned to Castiel and exclaimed, “What?”

He continued, “Ms. Richardson, I politely ask you to reschedule this inspection for another day. Especially considering your provided report information may have been garnered using _illegal_ means. Something that I’m sure Secretary Burwell wouldn’t be pleased to find out about.” He glanced at Dean briefly, before looking back at the woman. “If you still wish to do your inspection, fine, but my fiance and I have personal matters to discuss in private, so I’m afraid you would be required to do the inspection with my personal security agents accompanying you.”

She looked flustered, gaze moving from Castiel to Dean and then back again. Finally, she mumbled, “I’m sure we can reschedule for another, more convenient, time.”

“Much appreciated.”

As she moved to exit the house, Finley yet out a loud and obnoxious, “Bye, lady!”

Dean closed the door, leaning against it for a moment before looking to Castiel. “ _Fiancé?_ ”

“I had to say something! That bitch was obviously on a man hunt.” Castiel shook his head and set Finn on the floor. “Why didn’t you say something about losing your job?”

“Because you just walked into my house thirty seconds ago and _I don’t know you_?” Moving past Castiel, he reached for Finn’s hand and walked her towards the kitchen. “Come on, Finn, let’s make dinner.”

“I could order pizza—”

“I don’t need your charity, Mr. Novak, sir.”


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel didn’t really get the chance to talk to Dean much until Finn was tucked into bed for the night. While he waited, he sat through a tea party and a horrendously long movie called _Frozen_ , keeping Finn entertained while Dean cooked and then later cleaned up the kitchen. When, at around 8 p.m., the little girl was finally asleep, Castiel happily took the glass of water that Dean offered him and watched the older man fall onto the couch looking damn near close to exhaustion.

“Your layoff — I assume that was caused by recent events?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, fingers picking at the label of a cheap bottle of beer. “They gave other reasons, but I’m sure it was all bullshit. It’s a small town… the owner of the company went to high school with Finley’s maternal grandfather. Doesn’t really surprise me that this is finally happening. If anything, I’m surprised it’s taken them this long.”

“I see.” Castiel turned, letting his eyes follow the path down the hallway to where Finn’s bedroom was. “Her grandparents want custody, I assume? Where is her mother?”

“Dead.”

“Have they taken you to court?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “And I barely slipped by thanks to a friend of a friend that’s a lawyer. She worked pro bono and proved that I was more than capable of taking care of Finn. Unfortunately, if I slip up at all — like losing my job or housing, they will swoop in and file another petition with the court.”

“And Ms. Richardson?”

“Their neighbor’s daughter.”

Castiel snorted, setting his glass on a nearby table and rubbing a hand over his face. “God, to live in a small town.”

“Benny is here. That’s one of the few reasons why I stay. He’s a boy of the South.”

The way that Dean talked about the man that Castiel had assumed was simply a _roommate_ , had a sensation tingling under his skin as Castiel sat up and stared at Dean. “Are you and Benny…” he let the question trail off, not knowing exactly how to phrase his fears.

Dean choked back a laugh. “Dating? No. I’m pretty sure he’s a lifetime member of the straight club.”

“But you aren’t?”

With a shrug of the shoulders, Dean answered, “Not lifetime.” They were both quiet for a moment before Dean finally spoke again, “She’s going to tell them, you know. And they’re the ones that leaked that photo. Things will get out _very quickly_ once they know.”

Castiel had quickly come to the same conclusion. If Ms. Richardson was so closely connected to Finn’s grandparents, she would obviously go directly to them and announce the engagement. Then they would speak to the press… then Castiel would receive a call from the president. 

One little statement, spoken as a means of getting rid of that damn woman, would quickly turn their lives into a mess.

It was one of those ‘damned if we do, damned if we don’t’ situations. Castiel sat quietly staring at his glass of water, trying to sort in his mind how exactly they would move forward.

Eventually, Castiel looked up at Dean. “It seems the only proper course of action would be to go along with the rouse, then.” He thought immediately about how his father was going to react, and almost felt like smiling. The president’s entire platform was based on supporting non-soulmate relationships — and the fact that Castiel’s soulmate was _male_ >? Yeah. He could already imagine the look on the Vice President’s face. “The media will initially have a fit over the story, of course, but it’s not like they’ll be able to say much against two soulmates being together; something that happens every day.”

There was a hesitation in Dean’s eyes, as he looked from Castiel to the hallway that lead to Finn’s bedroom. “What about Finley? I don’t want her thrown into a mess. I can’t… I can’t _lose her._ ”

“Well that’s the beauty of it. If you were my partner, Finley would automatically be my responsibility as well. I could help financially, if needed, and we would obviously make sure that you had security protecting you both at all times.”

“ _Partner,_ ” Dean mumbled, looking back at his beer.

“I know it’s not ideal, Dean.” He rubbed an uneasy hand over the short hairs at the back of his neck. “I’ve spent all of my life hiding the fact that I prefer men over women.”

“I suppose it doesn’t befit a politician’s son, to be gay.”

“Not really, no. It also doesn’t befit him to be interested in culinary school instead of law school.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “I could write a list of all the bullshit I put up with because I have to make Jimmy Novak happy. Hell, maybe even a whole novel worth.”

Castiel watched as Dean bit nervously at his bottom lip. Finally, the older man spoke. “My initial thought is to turn you down, hold onto my pride, and tell you to take a long walk.”

“But?”

Another glance to the hall. “I would do anything for her. And work is hard to find around here — made even harder by the fact that Ellie’s family has so many ties to the community.” Dean’s voice sounded broken as he looked back to Castiel. “I would be a stupid, prideful man, to turn down your offer.”

\---

_”And now for our top story tonight, Castiel Novak, first son of recently elected President Jimmy Novak, has announced that he is in a relationship with the man that CNN reported last week as having Mr. Novak’s name on his arm. Ryan, this brings a lot of curious attention to the President — a man who has supported reforms breaking away from the focus on ‘soulmate tattoo’ relationships — do you think this development will affect his support?”_

_“Well Dan, I can tell you this much: if this news had come up a few months back when we were still in the midst of a close election, I can’t say that President Novak still would have won. His support numbers since this story came out have dropped by fifteen percent.”_

_“A damaging blow for a President that is trying to cement himself in his new office.”_

\---

“Have you heard from your brother?”

Sam rubbed a hand nervously against the long-sleeved shirt that was covering his tattooed arm. “No,” he answered Henry. He hadn’t heard from his brother since they arrived back from New York. 

“Well it seems like your plan worked.”

Across the dinner table, Sam lifted his head and gave his grandfather a curious look. “What plan?”

Henry smiled, “There was a report on the television — apparently Dean and Castiel Novak have started a relationship.” 

His heart flip-flopped in his chest, and beneath the table, he squeezed the arm that held his soulmate tattoo. “Really?”


	12. Chapter 12

Aside from the extra bodyguards (and media presence), Dean and Finn’s life didn’t really change overnight. Castiel only stayed another day, before he flew back to New York to continue his studies. He had Dean’s phone number, but so far the only form of communication was a simple text message announcing that the President wasn’t happy. Dean, of course, had already suspected that would be true (what right-minded President would want _him_ as a son-in-law?) but had no idea how to reply to Castiel’s message. So it remained unanswered and Dean went back to searching for every hiring company in a fifty mile radius.

The next couple weeks passed quietly and Dean, for the most part, figured his life was back to normal. Hell, even social services were leaving him alone. When it came time for rent to be paid, he withdrew his portion of the amount out of the meager savings that he had stashed away and presented it to his roommate that evening.

Benny gave him a fond look and slid the cash back over. “Keep it.”

A frown immediately appeared on Dean’s face. He had quietly ignored the fact that the cupboards stayed full despite the fact that Dean hadn’t gone shopping and Finn was still going through a growth spurt, but letting his friend pay for a few bags of groceries was a lot different than letting him pay the full rent payment. “You know I have savings. Take it. And by next month I’ll have work.”

“I don’t need your money, brother.”

“You don’t have enough to cover the full payment, Benny!”

“You’re right,” Benny laughed softly, “I don’t. But thanks to your _fiancé_ the payment was made last week.”

Dean stared at his best friend like he had another head growing out of his neck. “Excuse me?”

“I went to take a check to the super and he said that _Castiel_ had made an arrangement for the current payment and all future ones.”

“What!”

“Next time you talk to him, ask him for his address so I can send a thank you card.”

“Why would he even—” Dean was at a complete loss for words over the situation. He had told Castiel that he accepted his offer, but that didn’t mean he expected the guy to pay all of his bills! He stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket and heading for the back porch. “I gotta make a call — will you listen for Finn?”

“Of course.”

Stepping out onto the small deck behind the house, Dean scrolled through his contacts list until he came up with Castiel’s number. As he hit the ‘send’ button, he brought the phone to his ear and suddenly wished that he hadn’t quit smoking back when the baby was born. It was the _perfect_ time for nicotine to calm his nerves.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered.

Dean checked his watch and realized suddenly that it was after midnight in New York. “Fuck. Shit. Sorry. I didn’t really — I didn’t really stop to think that you were in a different time zone.” Why the hell were his words coming out so quickly? He tapped his free hand along the railing of the porch.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

There was shuffling on the other end of the line and Dean could imagine that the President’s son probably slept on silk sheets or some shit.

After a long pause, Castiel finally asked, “Did you need something, Dean?”

_Right._ He had called so that he could yell angrily at Castiel for paying a bill that Dean obviously could handle on his own. He didn’t need some rich kid taking over his life and — “Thanks.”

“For?”

“I tried to give Benny this month’s rent money and he said you had already taken care of it. You didn’t have to but… thanks.” Why exactly was he thanking the man when he should be angry? As he listened to Castiel's breathing on the other end of the line, he tried to understand what the feeling was that was bubbling up in his chest.

“I told you that I would help take care of you, Dean. I know that you are struggling, but I also figured you wouldn’t outright take a check for the amount, so I set up an arrangement with the property management company.”

“We would have been okay…” He wasn’t positive of that, of course. He had fifty dollars left in his bank account after taking out the rent money. And fifty dollars wouldn’t have gone far with a two-year-old. Finn was potty-training, but still fairly dependent on diapers and pull-ups.

Dean could swear he heard the other man smile over the line. “I’m sure,” Castiel replied. “But I still felt that I needed to help, after the mess that I caused.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Dean fell quiet. He stared at the dark outlines on the trees in the backyard, and wondered how his life could have been so messed up that it lead him there.

After a few beats of silence, Castiel spoke up again. “My uh… my dad wants to meet you.”

_Oh shit._ “He does?”

“Yeah. I was going to call you tomorrow about it. He’d like for you and Finn to come up to D.C. and they’ll do a big press shindig or something.” Castiel’s voice belied how nervous he was. “You can say no.”

Dean laughed at that. “I don’t think I can say ‘no’ to the President, Castiel.”

“I spent most of my life doing exactly that. I can teach you.”

He laughed again, feeling a warmth in his chest when he heard Castiel’s deep chuckle. “When will this meeting be happening?”

“I figured if we got it over with as soon as possible, you’d be able to go back and continue your job searching. Do you have anything going on for the next couple of weeks that would interfere with that plan?”

Fuck, he was really going to meet the President, wasn’t he? “No, nothing important.”

“Then I’ll make the arrangements and send you the details.”

A sudden thought occurred to him, “Will we have to sleep at the _White House_ ” Oh God. “Finley is not very good with breakable shit. Like… I’m sure she’d swarm that place like a category five hurricane.”

Another chuckle. “I’ll also make hotel arrangements. Wouldn’t want Miss Finley tearing up the Lincoln Bedroom.”

“Good plan.”

“Anything else, Dean?”

  


“No, I—” He took a deep breath, “I don’t think so.”

“Then I’m going to go back to sleep. I have an exam at eight in the morning.”

“Shit. Okay. Sorry, Cas.”

“ _Goodnight, Dean._ ”


	13. Chapter 13

Upon examination of a dictionary, the word ‘difficult’ had to be accompanied by a picture of a toddler on a plane. After the three hour flight — which, okay, was maybe made a bit better by the fact that Castiel had bought them first class tickets — Dean was ready for _naptime._ Unfortunately, since he wasn’t used to the ins-and-outs of parenthood, Castiel had scheduled a flight for first thing in the morning. Instead of in the afternoon, when Finn would have been all for sleeping the time away.

Dean wasn’t above letting the agent tasked with protecting them at that moment carry some of the luggage out of the airport (really, the gray diaper bag went perfectly with his black suit), as Finn sat in her stroller and threw a world class tantrum. 

There were definitely going to be pictures on the internet of his daughter screaming her head off in the middle of the baggage claim.

He _really_ needed a nap. And five shots of whiskey.

The ride to their motel was made slightly better by the fact that John, the agent on duty, had given Finn a bag of gummy bears that he had apparently been stashing in his pocket. The girl happily ate her sweets and Dean relaxed back into the leather seat of the SUV they were in and watched the sights of Washington D.C. pass them by. They were driving downtown, past all the Federal buildings, and Dean could easily make out the Washington Monument in the distance. 

Castiel had apparently booked them into the hotel closest to the White House — one that, according to Expedia, cost more for a night than his apartment did for a month — so they were dealing with traffic along Constitution Ave., and the tourists visiting the National Mall. When they finally pulled up at the W Hotel, Dean pulled Finn from her carseat and carried her inside while letting John and the concierge deal with their luggage. It wasn’t that he was getting used to the luxury of fame and letting people handle all the mundane aspects of life — as much as he was avoiding the paparazzi stationed outside the hotel’s entrance. 

“Mr. Winchester!” A voice called once they were inside the lobby. Dean looked up, spotting a hotel worker in a nice suit rushing his way. The man gave a polite smile before motioning to a bank of elevators and ushering Dean and Finn along. “We’ve been expecting your arrival. Mr. Novak has already arranged your room.” The elevator door dinged and the man slipped a keycard into his hand. “Ninth floor, room 938 to the right. I’ll have your bags sent up right away, and if we can provide you with any meals, day or night, please don’t hesitate to call.”

The doors slid closed, cutting off the man’s speech and leaving Dean and Finn alone in the elevator.

“Daddy?” his daughter whispered, head lifting off his shoulder and lips covered in sticky-sugary mess.

“Yes, sweets?”

She gave an exaggerated yawn, before letting her head drop back on his shoulder. “I ‘ucking tired.”

Dean bit his lips to keep from laughing. 

His daughter was going to swear in front of the president. He just _knew it._

\---

Three hours later, Dean woke up to knocking and glanced around for a few minutes in confusion. Spotting the fancy flat screen tv across the room, he remembered the events of the day and looked down to his left. Finley was spread out on the bed next to him, arms and legs out like a starfish and drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.

He wanted to take a picture — one that he could break out when she decided dating was okay — but the incessant knocking on the door told him he probably didn’t have time. Carefully standing, he took a moment to stretch and run a hand through his already messy hair, before slipping out of the bedroom of the suite and pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

Opening the hotel room door, he expected to see one of the security agents, and was surprised by the sight of Castiel standing in the doorway holding the handle of a suitcase.

“Hi Dean.” 

“Castiel.”

“I really don’t want to impose but… can I sleep on the couch?”

Dean stepped out of the doorway and allowed Castiel to step inside, watching as the younger man rolled his suitcase into the suite and then looked around nervously. “Technically,” Dean mused, “you paid for the suite. I should probably let you have the bed.”

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “I’m not the one with the toddler. Speaking of which—”

Motioning towards the bedroom door, Dean answered, “Napping,” before moving to grab a bottle of water from the small fridge. “You can put your stuff down, Cas. _Stay a while._ Maybe explain why you’d rather be here than that big fancy house across the street.”

With a sigh, Castiel left his bag and flopped down on the sofa. “Well, the vice president is kind of an asshole.”

“Good to know.” Grabbing another water, Dean walked over and sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, reaching out to hand Castiel the extra bottle. “Any particular reason why?”

“It’s a long story that includes parts I don’t like to talk about.”

“Fair enough.” Dean definitely had enough skeletons in his closet that he could respect someone else not wanting to take a trip down memory lane.

“Long story short, for reasons that probably directly revolve around my recent ‘engagement’ to you… Michael has moved into the room that would be right next to mine at the White House. And I just…” Castiel shook his head, fingers scratching nervously at the back of his neck. “I can’t, Dean. I just can’t.”

Reaching out, Dean laid a calm hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “No one is making you, Cas. Besides, it probably sells the relationship better if you stay here. I’m sure someone got a picture of you bringing your suitcase in the door.”

“Yeah, probably.”

The bedroom door slid open and Finn walked out, hair a mess and hand clutching one of the bed’s pillows that was dragging on the floor behind her. She still looked half asleep, and instead of going to Dean, like he would have expected, she crawled onto the nearest lap and closed her eyes again.

Castiel wrapped a tentative hand around the girl’s body before giving Dean a look that clearly said, _’What do I do?!’_

With a smile and a shrug, Dean relaxed back and used the nearby remote to turn the TV on.

\---

Later that evening, Dean was buttoning up a nice dress shirt as he stared at the suite’s sofa. “Are you sure about this?”

On the sofa, John Powell — the agent that they saw the most of — had Finn on his lap as she happily watched cartoons. John nodded. “I’ve spent enough time with Finn that she knows me, this will be fine. Right, Finley?”

“Yeah.” The girl looked up to Dean. “Go ‘way!”

“It’s just—”

“Dean.” He turned to look at Castiel, who was stepping out of the bathroom looking way too debonaire to be on a date with Dean. Castiel grabbed Dean’s coat from a nearby chair and held it out to him. “We’ll be a block away, and John has both of our phone numbers. She’ll be _fine._ ”

“I’m not used to leaving her with anyone but Benny.”

“Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog,” Finn sang, attention devoted to _Mickey Mouse Clubhouse_ on the television.

Castiel laughed, “I doubt she’ll even notice at this point. It’s just dinner. We’ll be back in two hours, tops.”

With a nod, Dean pulled on his jacket and gave one last look at his daughter. “Goodbye Finn. Can I have a kiss before I leave?”

“No!”

John and Castiel laughed, causing Dean to pout as he stepped out of the room, Castiel following close behind. Two more agents were waiting outside the suite and silently followed along behind them as they walked towards the elevator. Dean bit back his nerves, trying to get over the fact that it was his first date in years and the whole thing was staged. He didn’t really know the etiquette for ‘fake dating’... did they hold hands? Kiss in front of the camera?

Oh God… the whole thing was a terrible idea. “Can we go back now?” he asked, voice soft as he stood next to Castiel on the elevator.

“She’ll be fine, Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded, “Yeah but will I? I don’t know how to do this…”

“This?”

“Dating. Fake dating. Whatever.”

Castiel shrugged, “I’ve found that despite a person’s best efforts, the media will write what they want to write. So we could put on the best show ever, looking like we can’t stand a minute without each other, and they would still find fault. So look at this as less of a date and more: two friends getting to know each other over dinner.”

That… sounded a lot simpler. “No kissing?”

“No scheduled kissing.” Castiel grinned, “I can’t help if you _want to_ at the end of the night.”

And there was something about the light teasing in his tone that made Dean’s nerves finally calm down. He smiled, took a deep breath, and nodded that he was ready when the elevator doors opened. 

It wasn’t a surprise that there were people with cameras lurking outside of the front door of the hotel, but between the security and Castiel’s guiding hand resting against his elbow, Dean barely even noticed the light flashes. Since the restaurant was so close, they were walking and the paparazzi happily followed along, shouting out hopeful suggestions. With his back to them, Dean smirked and felt a little more like himself — and the Dean Winchester of old would definitely not be opposed to putting on a ‘show’. With only the briefest hint of hesitation, he reached down and laced his fingers with Castiel’s, hearing the click-click of shutters going off as soon as he did.

What would Ellie’s parents think when they saw him on the cover of the _New York Times _? Or _People Magazine.___

__If Castiel wasn’t up for the impromptu hand-holding, he didn’t say anything. In fact, he went along with the move easily and as they rounded the corner to head for the restaurant entrance, Dean felt the younger man bumping shoulders with him and looked up to find Castiel smiling._ _

__Huh._ _

__Maybe fake dating wasn’t so fake?_ _

__They were seated at the back of the restaurant and Dean curiously watched how their guards blended into the surroundings seamlessly. “It’s hard to believe the Secret Service agents can blend in so well.”_ _

__Castiel was already staring at his menu when he answered, “When we first started having the Secret Service handle our protection, it was like everywhere I turned there was a two hundred pound man standing in my way. Eventually I told them that if they didn’t want me causing problems and sneaking off, they would start being a little more inconspicuous.”_ _

__“Have you?” Dean asked. Castiel peeked over the brim of his menu with a raised eyebrow, so Dean elaborated, “Snuck away?”_ _

__“I did a few times during the campaign process. Never after.” He shrugged. “I was well aware of the threat that a certain class of people made against my father and everyone connected to him.”_ _

__Dean pondered that, and the fact that his own family was now at risk because of his involvement with Castiel, as he decided on what to eat for dinner. When the waiter came, Castiel ordered chicken alfredo and Dean took one more quick glance at the nearest table, before ordering a portobello mushroom burger._ _

__Once the man had walked away with their order, Castiel gave him a frown. “Are you a vegetarian, Dean?”_ _

__“Not officially. I tend to limit the meat in Finn’s meals, because Benny likes to go on and on about how important it is for her to not grow up dependent on a meat heavy diet. Usually when I’m out to eat alone, I splurge and have a regular burger.” He pointed at the other table, where a man had been served the same mushroom burger that Dean had ordered, “But that looks amazing.”_ _

__Leaning forward into Dean’s space, Castiel looked over at the other table and nodded with a soft chuckle. “I would have to agree. I might have to steal a bite.”_ _

__“Oh so that’s the kind of relationship you think this is, huh?” he teased._ _

__There was a twinkle in the other man’s eyes. “Well yeah. Engaged with _benefits_ , right?”_ _

__Dean held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Shoulda put a ring on it.”_ _

__“Oh! Good point.” Leaning back from his chair, Castiel reached into the pocket of his pants before pulling out a simple silver band. He held it out across the table. “I hope the size is right. I may have asked Benny to measure your finger while you were sleeping.”_ _

__“That’s not creepy at all.” Dean looked at the ring that Castiel was holding out, feeling a bit nervous and wary of accepting it. “I was joking.”_ _

__“I know.” Castiel grabbed Dean’s left hand before he could pull away, and eased the ring onto the proper finger. “I’m not, though.”_ _

__And suddenly, Dean looked down at his hand and realized it was _official_... he was engaged. As he held his arm up and moved his hand back and forth, he suddenly caught sight of Castiel’s name written on his arm and felt a weird feeling wash over him._ _

__He had never put much thought into _’soulmates’_... it was a fluke, right? How could one person be destined to be the perfect person for him? How could the universe plan for that? _ _

__Except he was sitting across the table from a man that in reality, he never should have even met. A man that he was now _engaged_ too. _ _

__How could that be anything other than fate stepping in and pushing them together?_ _


	14. Chapter 14

“Do they still exile people? Is that a thing? A possibility?”

Castiel looked over at Dean and smiled. They were walking away from the Oval Office, where his father had _insisted_ on a formal first meeting between Dean and the First Family. Tucked securely in Dean’s arms, Finn had her head buried in the crook of her father’s shoulder and every few steps a shuddery hiccough could be heard.

To put it nicely… the meeting had _not_ gone well. Castiel had been unsurprised to find that his mother was holding a wine glass that probably wasn’t her first, and his father had been in an awful mood thanks to earlier meetings with the Joint Chiefs.

Dean had handled the meeting well, obviously, but Finn was overdue for a nap and already cranky, so one well-intentioned ‘cheek squeeze’ from the First Lady, had Finley slapping at the hand and subsequently throwing a tantrum. Dean had tried unsuccessfully to get her to calm down, before the President had muttered under his breath, “The press room is going to love this.”

The aggravation in his tone had been evident, and even the quiet words weren’t said softly enough to avoid everyone in the room hearing. Dean had cuddled Finn in his arms, before saying an icy goodbye and turning to leave.

Castiel had found himself glaring at his parents before following the other man out. 

“They don’t exile,” he replied. “Especially not for a baby crying.”

“I wanted to hit him.”

“You should probably get used to that feeling.”

“Castiel.” _Shit._ “Son, it’s good to see you.”

Ahead of them, wearing a pressed suit and a leering smile, was Michael. Luke had promised that their visit would be timed for when Michael was in meetings, but apparently the delays they had experienced while waiting on the President, had worked against them.

After dealing with his father’s bullshit, Castiel really wasn’t in the mood for the dealing with the man in front of him. “Mr. Vice President, sir. We’re actually on our way out, in a bit of a rush to get the baby her nap.” On top of not wanting to deal with Michael — he also didn’t want Dean to get any ideas about the shared past that he had with the man.

“Nonsense. Why don’t you come upstairs and she can lay down in the Lincoln bedroom while we have a drink and talk?” Michael turned his gaze to Dean. “I want to get to know your _fiancè_ a little better.”

Castiel had his mouth open, ready to reply, when Dean spoke up for him. “Actually, we have a dinner reservation in a couple hours, so I really need to get back to the hotel, so she can sleep while I get ready.”

Michael looked unhappily at Dean, but Castiel didn’t let him get another word in. “Thanks for the offer, Mr. Vice President. We’ll have to postpone for another time.” He reached down to lace his fingers with Dean’s, and quickly walked around Michael and toward the exit, where their security was waiting. 

Michael, thankfully, didn’t protest, and when they made it to Luke and John, Luke gave Castiel an apologetic look. “I tried creating a distraction for him, but it didn’t work…”

“It’s fine. Thank you for trying. Just… get us back to the hotel.”

\---

That evening, after a well deserved pizza was ordered in and the three of them crashed on the couch to watch Mulan, Dean carried Finn into the bedroom, before walking back out and pulling the door shut behind him. Walking over to the small fridge, he pulled out two beers and popped the tops, before carrying them over to where Castiel sat. “Here,” he said, handing the younger man a beer. “You need this.”

“Thanks.” 

They sat for a moment in silence, watching the end of the movie play out, before finally, Dean couldn’t take it anymore. “So there was a thing? Between you two?” He looked over in time to see the face that Castiel made, and immediately felt like shit. “Sorry. Fuck. It’s really none of my business.” 

Castiel peeled at the label on his beer. As far as Dean could tell, he hadn’t even drank any of it, yet. “It wasn’t a reciprocated thing,” Castiel finally answered.

“Oh.” He looked back to the television, trying to understand what that meant, until it finally dawned on him. “Fuck. Are you kidding me? Do your parents know?”

“No.”

Dean frowned into his beer. “Politics are bullshit.”

Beside him, Castiel snorted. “So are politicians.” He finally took a long swig of his beer, before setting the bottle down on a nearby table and turning to Dean. “It’s all bullshit, you know? This mess started when I was _five._ You can’t be a fucking kid when you’re worried that you’ll get detention and suddenly daddy won’t be reelected.”

He shrugged. “Kind of like trying to be a kid while also raising a brother and praying your father doesn’t decide to drive after he leaves the bar.” He motioned with his bottle at the wall that was separating them from Finley. “Daddy issues are exactly why I try so hard with that little girl. She will never live the life that I did when I was growing up.”

Castiel sat back a bit, reaching down to unbutton one of the sleeves of his dress shirt. Dean watched patiently, wondering what he was doing as he meticulously rolled the sleeve up. Finally, when the shirt was at his elbow, he turned his arm over and held it out to Dean. “I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered, voice broken.

For a moment, Dean didn’t understand what he was saying, then he saw the bare skin of Castiel’s arm and remembered what was missing: his own name. His own heart hurt with a feeling he couldn’t name or understand, as he reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the bare skin. “ _Cas._ ”

“What kind of _straight_ son of the President would have a man’s name on his arm?” Castiel whispered. “That’s what they said. Even before I got it removed I had to make sure to never get photographed without long sleeves on. Eventually it just got so tiresome arguing with them, so I gave in. I never expected—”

Dean nodded, because this was yet another experience he could relate to. “My dad used it as yet another reason to hate me.” He waited another breath, before giving in… giving in to the fact that maybe _soulmate_ wasn’t a dirty word. Lightly holding onto Castiel’s wrist, he held the arm steady and bent down to place gentle kisses along the bare skin. 

He could hear Castiel’s breath catching in his throat, and after a few kisses, Castiel laid his palm on Dean’s cheek and pulled his face up. Dean went with it easily, not hesitating to meet Castiel’s lips with his own. As they kissed, he realized that maybe a part of him had expected fireworks or some kind of instant _’this is the one’_ memo in his brain because of their soulmate status. Instead, he relaxed into a feeling that was like coming home — kissing someone without expectations or urgency, without any need to prove that he was better than the person he should be. 

The kiss slowly deepened, and Dean happily let Castiel set the pace as he felt the younger man’s tongue brushing over his lips. He opened up to it, and a moment later felt Castiel shifting — moving to straddle Dean’s lap. 

When the kiss broke, Castiel gave him a nervous look and asked, “Is this okay?” He wiggled back, looking more than a little apprehensive. “I didn’t mean to rush—”

Dean snorted at that, leaning forward to lightly kiss the skin of Castiel’s neck, hands pulling his hips closer. “I don’t know if you noticed,” another kiss, “but we’re engaged.” He found the spot just below Castiel’s ear that had the younger man shivering. After a few moments, his fingers brushing lightly at the skin between Castiel’s shirt and pants, Dean leaned back. He looked down between their bodies and his voice got a little softer as he said, “The universe also made us soulmates.”

It apparently wasn’t the right thing to say, because a moment later, Castiel was sliding off of his lap and back onto the sofa next to him. Dean was just about to ask what the problem was, when Castiel ran a shaky hand through his hair, and looked down at his left arm. Since they were enjoying a night in, Castiel had traded his usual ‘son-of-the-President’ attire, for a more casual sweatpants and t-shirt look. The short sleeves made it easy to see the blank skin on his arm, circled by the faintest of scars from the surgery.

The younger man didn’t even have to voice his thoughts, because Dean _got it._ He got how hard it must be now, after actually meeting each other, to look down and see nothing but blank skin. It was probably a feeling akin to yelling at the universe that you reject it’s choice for you, and then feeling the heartbreak when the universe responds in kind with the perfect person.

Dean stood, leaving Castiel on the sofa as he walked quietly over to the bedroom door and snuck inside. He checked on the baby, before cautiously stepping over to his suitcase and feeling around in the front pocket. When his hand wrapped around the markers that he had packed to keep Finn busy during the flight, he pulled one out. The color really didn’t matter, although when he stepped back out into the lit living room and looked down, he smiled at the fact that it was purple, of all things. Pulling the door shut gently behind him, he moved back over to the sofa and sat down right next to Castiel. 

Confusion was written all over Castiel’s face as he stared at Dean, but Dean ignored it and grabbed the younger man’s left arm, stretching it out over his lap and uncapping the marker with his teeth. It wasn’t the same perfect font of a soulmate tattoo — wasn’t even close — but Dean could care less as he carefully wrote out his own name in purple ink on Castiel’s arm.

When he was done, he let go of Castiel and put the cap back onto the marker, before laying it on the coffee table in front of where they sat.

Blue eyes fixated on the writing for a long time, before, in a flash, Castiel moved back onto Dean’s lap and started kissing him again. Dean let out a soft ‘omph,’ but happily fell into the kiss.

This time, Castiel didn’t pull back in fear of making the wrong move, and Dean showed his appreciation by sneaking his hands up the back of the younger man’s shirt, relishing in the feel of bare skin.

As the kiss deepened once more, Castiel wiggled and suddenly pulled back so that he could lift the t-shirt off of his body. Dean admired the sight for a long moment, before pulling his own shirt off and tossing it in the same direction that Castiel had. Once skin-to-skin contact was a possibility, he wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him closer as their lips met again.

He had a feeling that Castiel, even stunted by the fact that he had to keep his sexual identity a secret, probably had more experience in their current situation. After his dad happened upon him and his high school quarterback fucking, Dean never had the nerve to really pursue that side of himself. He was strong enough to accept the fact, in his own head, that he liked men as much as he liked women, but had trouble getting to the point where he could ignore John Winchester’s voice and be with a man.

Kissing Castiel, was like he could hear the perfect harmony to tune out every homophobic slur. He enjoyed it so much, that until Castiel finally wiggled his hips down against Dean’s, he hadn’t realized that they were both hard. Pulling back, he took a breath and smiled nervously, “I’ve only done this once.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “We don’t have to rush. I just…” His eyes were pools of lust and his chest rose and fell rapidly with his breath. “I want to touch you. Kiss you.”

He wanted that just as much. “I have an idea. Stand up.” He watched the younger man do so reluctantly before standing and pushing the coffee table closer to the TV. It gave extra room on the floor in front of the sofa, and he quickly grabbed the extra pillows that were piled nearby from Castiel sleeping on the couch, and threw them on the floor. When he looked up to meet Castiel’s questioning gaze, he shrugged. “We’re both six feet. I’ve tried the making out on a couch thing and it ain’t easy.” Castiel chuckled, and Dean grinned, before wiggling out of his lounge pants and boxers, and dropping gently on the floor. As he stretched out, he caught Castiel giving him an appraising look and pointed a finger at the younger man. “No ogling. Get naked and get down here before we get interrupted.”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel quickly did as he was told and dropped down to his knees. He straddled Dean’s legs and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss at the junction of his hip. Dean groaned, fighting the urge to shift up and chase those lips. “I imagined you’d be a bit bossy in bed,” Castiel mused, kissing a little lower, a little closer to where Dean needed him.

Dean was surprised by his words. “You imagined this?”

A nod. “A few times. You?”

“Focusing on a kid makes a single dad a bit… _celibate._ ” A wet tongue circled his belly button before blazing a trail south. He bit his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise, and tried to focus his brain back on what he was saying. “So it’s been a while. But my imagination is not dead, no.”

“Good,” Castiel looked up at him with a smirk, before leaning forward and licking the tip of Dean’s cock. This time, Dean couldn’t hold back the groan, and Castiel rewarded him by taking his length completely into his mouth. 

_Fuck_ but that felt good. “Shit, Cas,” Dean breathed out, fingers moving down to brush through those perfectly coiffed dark tresses. 

If someone could smirk while giving a blowjob, Castiel was probably doing just that. He took his time, moving slowly up and down Dean’s length like he was savoring every second. Dean, thankfully, had enough control to keep his hips planted on the floor, but he couldn’t help raising his head and looking down the length of his body at what was happening. Castiel had one hand wrapped around the base of Dean’s cock, and the other laying on his hip. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean gasped. He had never liked feeling like a selfish lover, and knew that Castiel was probably feeling just as hot as he was. “Stroke that pretty cock for me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Castiel moaned around his cock, but Dean watched him follow the command obediently and move his free hand down to wrap around his own dick.

The problem with celibacy was… having another person actually devote attention to his needs, had him reaching the peak way too soon. He could feel the burning in the pit of his stomach and knew that he was close. He needed _more_ , though. Needed it not just to be about him. He tugged gently at Castiel’s hair until the man pulled back and looked up at him. “C’mere,” Dean pleaded.

A second later Castiel was _there_ and Dean chased the flavor of his own pre-come in Castiel’s mouth, as he reached a hand down between their bodies and wrapped it around both of their cocks. With Castiel’s spit as lubricant, he stroked them both in time and bit gently at Castiel’s bottom lip. He had already been so close, with the toe-curling blow job, that it didn’t take him more than a few strokes before he was dropping his head back and gasping as his orgasm hit. Thankfully, he had the piece of mind to keep stroking, and a few moments later, Castiel bit down at the juncture of Dean’s neck, and reached his own orgasm, come splattering Dean’s stomach and mixing with his own.

With a soft grunt, Castiel collapsed down against him and Dean smiled happily as he kissed into the tangle of messy dark hair that was tickling his nose.

They needed to clean up before they fell asleep… but it could wait.


	15. Chapter 15

When Dean woke up the next morning, he had a kink in his neck and a small finger poking his nose. Blinking his eyes open, he looked up into the angelic face of his daughter… and tried to remember if he and Castiel had put their underwear back on before falling asleep on the floor.

Finn had her binky in her mouth and the look in her eyes that said she was still tired but needed a snuggle. He reached under the covers to check that all underwear was in place, before pulling back the blanket and making room for her. Instead of laying next to him, like he expected, she step-slid over his torso and snuggled into the spot between himself and Castiel. Dean immediately smiled at that, and looked up to find blue eyes staring at Finn as well. Castiel seemed surprised that Finn wanted to be so close — which, to be fair, Dean was a bit too. 

“Hand,” a small voice demanded, as Finn held her hand out towards Castiel.

Castiel, still looking hesitant, let Finn grab onto his hand. Once she had, she closed her eyes and Castiel looked up at Dean. Dean smiled, mouthing gently, _”Hey.”_

Castiel returned the smile, but after a moment he looked back to Finn. Surprisingly, Dean recognized that look in his eyes. That feeling of _’this little human is depending on me’_ that hits all new parents. Dean snuggled closer to them both, curling his arm over Finn and letting his hand brush along the bare skin of Castiel’s stomach.

\---

Later that afternoon, after a well deserved snuggle and room service lunch, they had the scheduled press conference to go to. Sitting in the car between Finn’s carseat and Castiel, he listened as a press advisor from the White House went over the details about what would be said and asked of them. Finley, in a sparkling blue dress that someone had delivered that morning, was thankfully well-rested, well-fed, and ready to meet the nation.

As the woman in the front seat continued to talk, Dean turned to look at Castiel. “When is the wedding?” It was a detail that they hadn’t discussed, but would obviously be posed by one of the members of the press.

Castiel shrugged, “I hadn’t picked a date.” He gave Dean a nervous look. “Wasn’t sure you’d stick with the plan for that long.”

“Is it still just a plan?”

Sitting forward a bit, Castiel watched Finn chatter with a doll in her hand, before smiling at Dean. “No?”

Good, that was good. Dean hated to admit it to anyone — especially himself — but the more time he spent with Castiel, the more he became a believer in the whole ‘soulmates’ nonsense. “December would be nice. Nothing beats a winter wedding. Then again, that brings up the question of living arrangements and location of the wedding.”

They pulled to a stop at the White House, but instead of exiting the car, Castiel waited for the Secret Service agent and press lady to leave, then he continued the conversation. “I still have a couple years of school to finish. I would love to have you and Finn in New York with me. I know it’s a lot to ask, making you leave the home you’ve gotten used to, but it would give you an escape from Finn’s grandparents and the small town lifestyle.”

Dean worked on unstrapping Finley from her carseat, and pulled her onto his lap. Instead of answering Castiel, he smiled at his daughter, “Puddlejumper, do you like Cas?”

Finn stared at Dean for a moment, before pointing at the man next to him. “Cas.”

“Yup. That’s him. What do you think about him? Is he a keeper?” Dean side-eyed Castiel suspiciously, and brought a finger to tap at his chin like he was contemplating his own question. Almost immediately, Finn mimicked his movements, tapping her chin and going ‘hmm’ as she watched Castiel.

Finally, she fell over onto Castiel, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Keep him!” 

Dean couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah. Good choice, Finn.” Leaning forward, he pushed his head into the space beside Finn’s and kissed the corner of Castiel’s lips. “Definitely a keeper.”

After the kiss ended, they climbed out of the car just in time to be rushed at by the public relations crew again. The one that had ridden over with them, spoke up, going over a few last minute details. “Mr. Winchester, we’ll have you standing to Mr. Novak’s right and holding Ms. Finley on your own right, out of reach of the microphone. We want to present a cohesive family unit at all times. You aren’t required to speak, but if you do speak, please remember that everything you say is a direct reflection on the president.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dean growled, “I know how to behave myself, ma’am.”

“Yes, but—” 

“You’ve said all over this to me twenty times already,” he continued, voice still showing his irritation. “I’m not some dumb hick that’s going to go up there and use a racial or sexist slur and upset the nation. I wouldn’t do that if I _wasn’t_ in front of cameras.”

“We know that, but—”

“Claudia,” Castiel growled, “let it go.”

\---

On the White House lawn, in front of a large crowd of reporters, Castiel held Finn in his arms and stood between his mother and Dean. Despite the PR people wanting Dean to hold her, Finn had clung to him like she _knew_ they were about to do something crazy. Even when Dean had tried to entice her away, the little girl had held fast to Castiel’s neck and shook her head against his shoulder. 

Castiel had to admit… he kind of liked it. At nineteen, he had never really contemplated children or fatherhood, especially when he was fairly certain that he would never be happy with a woman, so to stumble into a situation that equaled out to having a perfect little girl that had apparently adopted him into her heart, had completely taken him by surprise. But it was worth it. So worth it.

He held her a little tighter, and tuned back into his father’s speech. Jimmy was speaking well-rehearsed words about how he had never expected to be proved so wrong about the power of soulmate tattoos, but he would never deny his own child’s happiness. Castiel held back an ironic snort at that particular statement. Heaven forbid some camera get footage of him rolling his eyes at his father.

Eventually, Jimmy introduced Castiel to say a few words, and motioned at the podium as he took a step back. Castiel stepped forward, ignoring a small squeak from one of the PR women who obviously didn’t want him to take Finn near the microphone. Word had obviously gotten around about the way Finn had reacted upon first meeting the president — and it wouldn’t do for a tantrum to happen midway through his speech. It was also incredibly difficult to brief a two-year-old on how to talk in front of the crowd, and Finley had the tendency to adopt her father’s bad language at the most inappropriate of times.

Castiel wasn’t worried, though. Especially when he heard her yawn and looked down to see her eyes blinking heavily.

Once he was standing before the press, he turned to give his father a charismatic smile. “Thanks, dad. I know what you really wanted to tell them was that you weren’t ready to be a _grandpa_ , but don’t worry, no one will ever figure it out.” The crowd laughed, including Jimmy — but Castiel knew his father well enough to see the fakeness of it. Castiel turned back towards the cameras. “I also wanted to thank you all for coming today. On behalf of Dean and myself, I know that we’re both a little shocked by the attention our meeting and subsequent relationship has garnered.”

From behind him, Castiel heard Dean call out, “I’m no Kate Middleton!”

The crowd laughed again, and Castiel turned to smile at Dean. He hadn’t expected Dean to say anything, let alone a well-timed joke that delighted the crowd. Keeping his eyes on Dean, he leaned back to the microphone. “It’d be much easier if you were,” he teased.

“Love you too.” Dean replied with a wink.

Castiel laughed, shaking his head as he focused back on the reporters, but not without a quick glance down at Finn, noting that the girl had finally dozed off to sleep. He kissed her forehead, before continuing to speak. “The beauty of soulmates is the mystery of it.You have no idea who fate has deemed perfect for you, until suddenly they’re there in your life and you can’t imagine a moment without them. Fate has blessed me with not only Dean, but Finley, here, who has stolen my heart just as quickly. Families come in all sizes, and I never expected to find that out first hand — but moving forward, we’ll be better together. And I want to thank my parents and close friends for supporting us. Now… we should probably get busy planning a wedding!”

People started shouting, wanting to ask questions, but since Castiel had been informed that he wasn’t required to answer anything, he stepped away from the podium. When he got back to where Dean stood, he smiled softly before leaning in to kiss Dean gently.


	16. Chapter 16

\--- **One Year Later** \---

Dean wasn’t a big fan of New York, he had to admit. He was still used to the small town that he had left behind in Louisiana, and the city was just too loud, too bright, too go-go-go. That being said, he loved the fact that all it took was a simple strap into the stroller and a walk down the block, and he could have Finn at a nearby park where she happily played for hours with other neighborhood kids. 

That particular weekend, though, they had driven away from the city, heading south to D.C. and a big State dinner that Castiel had been asked to attend. Dean was still afraid of going to the White House — had only made the trip twice more, after their first public appearance. There was something about the big daunting building that had him staring at Castiel and _begging_ for another option. But, unfortunately, appearances had to be made. 

Dean fidgeted with his tie and stared over his shoulder at Cas. “Are you sure this person is trustworthy? I don’t like leaving Finn with someone I haven’t really met.”

“Dean, she’s an army captain with a level three security clearance. I’m _pretty sure_ that if she can handle some of the nation’s worst enemies, she can take care of a toddler.” 

“If she takes care of my daughter the way she takes care of enemies, she’ll need the combined forces of the United States _and_ Canada, to protect her from me,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Castiel stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. “What are you more worried about? Finn? Or the fact that you have to go to dinner at the White House?”

“There’s going to be a _prince_ there, Cas. I don’t really fit in with that kind of crowd and you know it.”

Cas kissed his neck and smiled, “Pity. Because you look like a male model and I think you’ll fit in _perfectly._ ”

“Is it too late to pick another soulmate?”

“After the wedding ceremony and the promising our lives to each other? Yeah, I kind of think it is.”

“Pity.” He pulled the closet door shut and turned around to kiss Castiel’s nose. “Let’s do this thing.”

\---

Sam was a month away from his eighteenth birthday, when the house next door to Grandpa Henry’s finally sold. A week later, he watched the moving truck arrive, and a crew of three men unload box after box. He hadn’t actually seen who was moving into the house yet, so he shrugged it off and went back to studying for his next big test. High school graduation was looming, and he had a lot to prepare for.

Another week passed, and he was sitting at the kitchen table, nose deep in a chemistry textbook, when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Henry grumbled from his recliner in the living room. 

A moment later, Sam could hear voices, but didn’t give it much thought.

Then there were footsteps, and he looked up to see Grandpa walking in, carrying a casserole dish and followed by two women. Henry motioned behind him and spoke to Sam, “Sam, these are our new neighbors.”

He smiled at the ladies, “Hi there.” Closing his book, he stood from the table and held out his hand. “Sam. Nice to meet ya.” He shook first the brunette’s, and then the blond’s hand.

“Hey Sam. I’m Jody Mills, and this is my girlfriend, Donna Hanscum.”

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, and his eyes moved down to his left arm.


	17. Chapter 17

\--- **After The Credits...** \---

On a hot day in the middle of June, on the first floor of the West Wing, in the heart of the nation’s capital, the Vice President of the United States walked toward an old file room in search of some documents that his secretary had been unable to find. A moment later, footsteps were heard behind him. He glanced back, but frowned when he didn’t see anyone.

“You’re getting old, Mike,” he whispered to himself. “Hearing shit.” Shaking off the feeling, he stepped into the alcove of the office he was looking for, and pulled out the key. A moment later, he was slammed forward into the door, and a strong arm whipped him around so that his back was pressed up against the hardwood.

Piercing blue eyes stared him down, and Michael couldn’t place the name, but knew that the man was Secret Service, just by the suit he was wearing. Before he could speak, an angry fist hit him in the face. The agent stepped back, and Michael leaned forward, spitting blood onto the tile floor and bring his hand up to where he’d been punched. 

“What the _fuck._ I’ll have you arrested—”

“You try anything, and some very disturbing documents about your past, will make their way into the hands of the press,” the agent sneered. He wrapped his hand around Michael’s throat and forced him back up against the door. “And if you _ever_ lay your hands on an unwilling boy again, I will slit your throat myself. Understood?” 

Michael balked at the guy. There was no way he could possibly know—

The hand tightened, cutting off his air supply, and the question was repeated, “I said, _understood_?”

Since he couldn’t speak, he quickly nodded his head.

The man stepped back, straightened his suit, and turned to leave. “Have a nice day, Mr. Vice President.”


End file.
